Shades of the Past
by inkmonkey
Summary: AU. The Statute of Secrecy was repealed during the Voldemort War. Muggles and wizards have an uneasy truce, but there is a new threat rising: The shade of Vortigern has been summoned, jeopardizing that fragile peace.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: This is the prologue to a rather long fic. I might or might not post the rest, depending on two factors: The acquisition of a beta reader and general ideas tester, and the resolution of some of the more severe plot issues. To be honest, some parts of it read like a farce and other parts read like a tragedy, and I can't make up my mind which one I want. What I've got here is the only part I really feel confident about, so I hope it's not too bad.

* * *

The Prime Minister looked up in alarm. The fireplace was flaring green, as it had not done since he first took office. He had hoped and prayed that what he'd seen, or thought he'd seen then had been an illusion, a hallucination, brought on by over-indulgence at his victory party. Unfortunately, the woman stepping sedately out of the fireplace proved otherwise. She was tall and thin, with a prominent nose and graying hair pulled severely back. The total effect reminded him distressingly strongly of his Aunt Anne, who had terrified him as a child. She even spoke like his Aunt Anne as well, with a condescending tone that gave the impression that she believed the listener to be a complete and total imbecile. "I am Millicent Bagnold, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It is not usual for anyone except the Minister himself to meet with you, however, he has been incapacitated. Given the current state of war-" she paused, and looked at him as his eyes widened in shock. "You are aware of the war, are you not?"

The absolute contempt with which she asked that made him straighten in his chair and scowl, the termagant of his childhood forgotten. "No, Madam, I am not. I am not surprised, given that I am not informed of anything that concerns," he spoke the word with distaste, "_Magic._ It does not and will not concern me one bit; I am as unmagical as..." he fumbled for a word, and gave up.

She raised an eyebrow at him, in a way he'd never been able to do, and which always drove him mad. "I rather think that magic does concern you at the moment, and shall probably concern you for the rest of your life." At his look of disbelief, she elaborated. "The Wizengamot is our equivalent to your... Parliament, I believe is the word. It has voted to rescind the Statute of Secrecy. We are coming out of hiding, Prime Minister, and our first public act is this: we wish to buy a missile."

He wavered between shock and horror, then settled on a kind of calm that he knew would shatter any minute, but still meant to hold onto as long as he could. In tightly controlled tones, he asked, "Who, exactly, are you at war with?"

"It is a purely internal affair, but nonetheless one of such scale that drastic measures are called for." She was having difficulty concealing her unease, and it sat uncomfortably on her face; evidently, it was not something to which she was accustomed. "There is a... faction that advocates the destruction of Mud-" She caught herself. "Muggles, and they are using a startlingly effective combination of guerilla tactics and dark magic to press their point. It has become a rare day indeed that does not see the violent death of someone sympathetic to Mu- Muggles. The death toll is nearly a thousand. This state of affairs cannot continue."

He gritted his teeth, and reached for the bottle he kept in his drawer. "A thousand, Madam? For a war, that is a negligible sum. The war that just ended in Indochina has claimed more than a quarter of a million lives." He poured himself a drink, studiously ignoring the look of outrage on her face.

"The magical population, Prime Minister, is fewer than twenty thousand in the United Kingdom, and less than a million in the world. For us, a thousand is an unimaginable loss. You _will_ give us what we need, whether willingly or not."

The resemblance to his Aunt Anne was back, but he made last gesture, however petty, of defiance. "I should very much like to know how you propose to force me to do _anything _against my will."

She smiled in a distinctly selachian manner. "Like this, Prime Minister. _Imperio._" His eyes went blank, and she smiled. "Now, I want you to make arrangements for the sale of several short range missiles, to be delivered to an address I will send to you later. I would also like you to call a press conference, in which you will say the following..."

* * *

Severus smiled to himself. The Daily Prophet sat in front of him, its headline screaming 'STATUTE OF SECRECY REPEALED!'. Next to it lay an open notebook containing a plan he had worked on meticulously since his third year, with many pages crossed out entirely. He had always intended to have some kind of a career involving potions, and starting a few years ago had begun working out a business plan for the apothecary shop he had wanted to open. But now, with a near infinite number of new possible customers, he was rethinking it. Muggles, after all, couldn't even make the simplest potions, the ones that no one needed to buy because they could make them themselves. He was willing to bet that they would pay, and pay well, for such things. Mass production would be the key, though, that and finding a market. But mostly mass production. He smiled even more widely, and turned to a new page in his notebook. As he scribbled equations and formulas in a small, lopsided hand, he thought to himself, _Who knows? I might even get rich._

Sirius Black grinned maniacally. He had liberated a map of Scotland from the library, and was plotting a flight path to Inverness, the nearest town of any size worth mentioning. He'd borrowed Peter's Bottomless Box, and strapped it to the back end of his broom. He looked at his list again, making sure he'd written everything down: guitar, amp, microphone, gasoline generator, gasoline. He frowned, and added two more items; a record player and albums. It was all well and good listening to the Sex Pistols and such at Remus' house over the summer, but it wasn't enough. He wanted to be that, not just listen to it. He wanted to be a rock star. The words were music to his ears. _Rock star._

In the library, three tables down from where Severus was trying devise a means to mass-produce potions, Remus Lupin was writing a letter. _Dear Doctor Weston,_ he began, _I have heard that you are the foremost researcher on blood borne diseases in Europe, and would like to offer you a unique opportunity. You have, of course, heard the news concerning the existence of magic, and I would not be surprised if you were researching magical methods of healing as we speak. However, there is a downside to magic, which is that there are also magical diseases. One such disease is lycanthropy, which I suffer. I am willing to used as a test subject, should you choose to take on the challenge of creating a cure for this monstrous disease. If you wish to take me up on this offer, you may send me a letter by non-magical post to R. Lupin, c/o Mrs. A. Lupin... _He scribbled down his address, signed it, and stuffed it in his last remaining Muggle envelope. As he walked up to the owlery, he thought, _Oh Merlin, I hope he says yes._

Lily's lips curved upwards in a crooked half-smile, her eyes focused on the last paragraph of the lead article in the Daily Prophet. _'Headmaster Dumbledore says that transcripts will be provided for any student who wishes to attend a Muggle institute of higher learning.' _She'd been horrified to learn that there was no magical university, no way to stretch her education past the age of eighteen. James always laughed at the notion that anyone would want to prolong what he considered a necessary evil, and had never understood that she wasn't trying to prove anything, that she really did enjoy learning. He was like that sometimes; she'd tried to get him to see her point of view, but it hadn't worked. It hadn't worked with feminism either, or Muggle literature; he still believed that women should stay home and that Muggle novels were crap. She was suddenly filled with the resolve to do something to jolt him out of his complacency; something shocking, something he'd never think of her as doing in a million years. Something like... attend Muggle college.

James sighed. He should have been happy, overjoyed even. The wizarding world was coming out of hiding at long last. Instead of being pleased, all he could think about was the lack of entry level jobs that paid enough to support two people. His hand slid down to rub the velvety surface of the little box in his pocket, and he smiled. They were going to be so happy together, him and Lily. He'd have a good job at the Ministry and when he came home everyday, Lily would be there waiting for him, with dinner on the table and a smile in her face. They'd have loads of children, and when they could afford it, they'd buy a house in the country near his parents' home in Godric's Hollow. Of course, he had to find a job first. He sighed, and turned his attention from thoughts of the future to the want ads spread in front of him.

Peter laughed bitterly. A whole new world of opportunities, they said. Yeah, a world of exciting new jobs that he wouldn't get. His grades were lousy, he had nearly no marketable skills and his only notable accomplishment was so illegal he didn't dare mention to anyone. So he could turn into a rat; so what? Ahhh... It didn't matter. He'd just smile and nod and act like nothing was wrong. He was good at that. Wait... Acting. That was a skill, wasn't it? Hadn't Sirius said something about being a movie star or something of the kind? If Sirius, who could never hide anything or even lie convincingly could be an actor, so could he. He wasn't brilliantly handsome or anything, but he wasn't totally hideous, either. He could easily get enough bit parts to support himself decently. Peter shrugged. _Hollywood, here I come.

* * *

_

Millicent Bagnold scowled at the paperwork in front of her. The missiles had been delivered, the Mu- Muggle military units were in place, but where were the Aurors? According to the report in her hands, they were all too old, too anti-Muggle (a tiny voice in her head cheered 'good for them!' even as she ruthlessly squashed it) or too injured. This meant that she'd have to consider that idiot Fudge's proposal. How a twit like that rose as high as Assistant Head of the Magical Catastrophes Department was beyond her. He had all the ambition of Slytherin House but none of the cunning or subtlety. He was the kind of person who gave Slytherin a bad name, and left people like her to receive suspicious looks and public distrust. No point in thinking about it though, she told herself firmly. She had to read his proposal before rejecting it, after all, and the sooner it was in the trash, the better.

Flipping through it, she soon realized that not only was it not his usual florid writing style, it was not the kind of idea he would ever come up with on his own. Turning back to the front page, she saw that under Fudge's large, looping signature was a name written in small, angular letters. Hmmph. Whoever Arthur Weasley was, he obviously had brains and tact. She'd have to see about doing something nice for him, like getting him out from under Fudge. Weasley's proposal (she'd bet a month's pay that it was his idea) was simple and brilliant. Draft new Aurors as needed; none of this useless 'recruiting' nonsense. She smiled slightly; this was going to make her life so much easier, and the only person capable of overriding her decisions, the Minister of Magic, was comatose in St. Mungo's, and probably would be for the rest of his term.

A smile still lingering on her face, she began to draft the new orders. '_All able-bodied witches and wizards between the ages of 18 and 25 are to report to the Ministry of Magic on July the 1st. Due to the low number of Aurors fit for duty, new Aurors are being selected from the general populace. Attempts to avoid service will be met with lengthy prison sentences. All recruits will be paid full Auror salary. By order of Millicent Bagnold, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement._'

* * *

Severus only glanced at the poster hanging on the door of the Great Hall. He knew his dueling skills were nowhere near good enough for an Auror; he'd show up, be dismissed and have the whole thing over with then and there.

Sirius saw the poster and swore luridly. He didn't want to be an Auror, dammit! Of course, he didn't want to go to Azkaban either, so it seemed he had to; he had no doubts that he'd be chosen. Ah well, his musical career would wait.

Remus looked at the poster and sighed. He would have liked to be an Auror, but the 'able-bodied' requirement was not one he could meet. The pay would have been nice too; Aurors were paid as much as assistant department heads. He shrugged philosophically. He'd find work somewhere.

Lily grinned widely. This was even better than college. Her charms skills made her a dead cert, and her potions skills were none too shabby either, if she did say so herself. She might even be made an Auror healer!

A smile slowly spread across James' face. The pay for an Auror was three times what he might hope to make working at a desk; maybe a nice cottage for him and Lily wasn't so far off.

Peter eyed the poster in disbelief. He hadn't realized they were so hard up for new recruits. Didn't really matter; they couldn't possibly be desperate enough to pick him. He'd let them have a look at him, then go about his merry way to California; he heard it was lovely this time of year.


	2. Chapter One

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: I know I that said that I wouldn't publish this. Obviously, I changed my mind. I still need a beta reader, though, and any offers would be deeply appreciated. Suggestions for a new title are also more thanwelcome; I can't stand the one I've got, but I can't really think of anything else.

Lily Evans sighed, and reached up to tuck a stray hair back in her bun. She had finally finished her column, and it well before the deadline. She stood up from her desk and stretched, moaning as her lower back, cramping after hours hunched over a keyboard, protested. Glancing around her flat, she smiled. She may not have done as well as some of her friends, but she was free and clear; she had no debts, no unpaid bills, no financial worries. She knew exactly how her paycheck was spent, the same month after month. Her parents frequently offered to pay for somewhere larger for her to live, but she never accepted; the idea of charity grated on her nerves. Lily never even spent the thirty sickles she was sent every month by the Ministry; she had been honored to serve as an Auror, and wanted no recompense. She was proud of what she had accomplished on her own; she'd gotten through college, she had a nice place to live, and a job as a journalist, a profession she adored. She was so happy that there were some days she thought she might burst.

Staggering from fatigue, she made her way over to the bathroom, and turned the shower on, casting a discreet charm to make the water heat faster. Stepping under the steamy spray, she let her hair down, and sighed in bliss. She picked up the shampoo bottle and smiled, as she always did, at the moving picture on the label. 'Snape Cosmetics Company', it said, and the picture of Snape leered at her, blatantly licking its printed lips. It was something which never failed to amuse her, the idea that Snape, the only prudish Slytherin she'd ever met, would allow such an image of himself to be seen in public. Of course, some of the articles in the tabloids, which she would never admit to buying, did suggest that he had lost that particular trait, especially the ones about him and Dora Tonks, the movie star. They were, according to Witch Weekly, screwing like crazed rabbits.

The idea of Snape doing anything like a crazed rabbit was enough to make her laugh heartily, and she inhaled a mouthful of soapy water. Grimacing, she spat repeatedly and rinsed out her mouth, then turned off the shower, wrapping herself in a towel. She dried herself off, and put on a pair of sweatpants, then settled on the sofa with one of her favorite books. '_In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit...'_

Remus gave himself a once-over in the mirror, then made a face of mild distaste. He was getting slightly chubby, and there were streaks of grey through his hair. On the one hand, his weight gain was slightly embarrassing. On the other, it meant that he was making enough money to eat well, an idea which he would once have dismissed as impossible. Before the cure for lycanthropy was discovered, he had been unable to find work; it just wasn't economical to hire someone who would be out sick a week of every month. His lips quirked in something like a smile as he thought fondly of Dr. Weston. The great doctor had won the Nobel Prize some years back, and had, during his speech, praised Remus for being the first to even consider the possibility of a cure. His co-workers at the library had razzed him for weeks about it, and had given him a cheap stethoscope as a gag, calling him 'Dr Lupin'.

When he thought about it carefully, he realized that the last time he had been this healthy had been during the year he'd been an Auror. Remus have never expected to be an Auror; in fact, he hadn't even bothered to report for service. After all, werewolves had never been allowed into the Auror Academy. He'd been lucky to escape Azkaban; the only thing that kept him out was having Headmaster Dumbledore testify on his behalf. He looked over at his bedside table, and the medal displayed there. '_For courage in the face of overwhelming odds_', it said. He snorted; the only overwhelming odds _he'd_ ever faced were the ones against a werewolf living past the age of twenty. He blessed the NHS every day, for paying for the treatments that had cured him; they were the only reason he was still alive, he was fairly certain.

He shrugged. There wasn't really any point in dwelling on the past; he was a reference librarian in his late twenties, and as far as most people were concerned, that was all. No point in talking about Hogwarts, or the Marauders; the government had taken over Hogwarts years ago, and mentioning the Marauders would garner him no more than a few blank stares. The Marauders... He hadn't thought about his old friends in ages. He knew that Peter had starred in several movies that had done well at the box office, and that Sirius had had a certain amount of success as a musician. He played in bars and clubs, and had a reputation as being a very good guitarist. Early on in his career, Sirius had invited him to one of his shows. Remus had been very impressed, especially by the way the drum set had exploded at the end. Come to think of it, that was the last time he'd seen Sirius.

He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen James. Actually, he could. It was at the Three Broomsticks the night after the war ended. Everyone was celebrating but him; Lily had turned down his proposal. He'd been drunk off his head, and saying some truly unflattering things about her, of which 'Merlin-damned bluestocking' was the mildest. He wondered what had become of Lily; he knew that a girl like that would go far. She was nearly Slytherin in her ambition to be more than just a housewife, he mused fondly. He'd always been half in love with her; they all had. Even Snape had sent her more than just a few longing glances, which at the time had amused him. Upon reflection, though, he'd felt bad for Snape. With the clarity of hindsight, he'd realized that Snape must have been at least as in love with her as James, if not more. He himself had only wished that he dared ask her for a date, but between James' possessive streak concerning her and his own 'illness', he'd never dared. So much for Gryffindor bravery.

Sirius grinned, and took a theatrical bow. He'd just finished a performance, and he was exhausted and drenched in sweat, but the adrenaline in his veins made him feel like he was on top of the world. This was one of his favorite clubs to play at; there were always free drinks for the bands, and the barmaids were all pretty and flirtatious. Of course, he couldn't flirt with them anymore; he had a girlfriend now. He smiled at the thought of Nicola. She had a bit of a temper, but she was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever met. Tall, brunette, with bright blue eyes and a lopsided smile, she made his heart race and his palms sweaty. He felt like a schoolboy every time he looked at her, and occasionally still wondered what she saw in him.

He sat down at the bar and lit a cigarette, waving away the bartender. He wanted to be perfectly sober when he got home; Nicola would be waiting. He briefly wondered if he was completely under her thumb, then decided that he probably was, but wasn't it a lovely thumb to be under? He might even be as whipped as James would have been. His smile faded slightly at the thought of James. They still talked once in a while, had talked just last week, and James was obviously miserable. He'd never gotten over Lily; her rejection had damn near destroyed him. Sirius knew he was usually oblivious, but even he could tell that James had never let it go. He shuddered to think what might happen if the two saw each other again.

He shrugged it off, and tried to think of happier things. He'd finished writing three new songs, Nicola had been promoted and their first anniversary was next week. He was planning to take her to the Ritz to celebrate. How would James and Lily have celebrated- No. Must think of better things, he reminded himself. Like how Remus is doing, for example. The last time he'd seen Remus, he'd been part way through his treatments, and sick as a dog. He'd have to call him some time, catch up with each others' lives. After all, it was practically his job to make sure his friend was as happy as he was. Resolved to a course of action, Sirius smiled, and got up to go home.

Peter smiled. He'd just looked over a script, and it looked like a part he might enjoy playing. It was an action movie, rather unusually for him; he almost always did comedies, but this was too good a part to turn down. He'd been asked to play Mad-Eye Moody in a movie about the war with Grindelwald, a highly inaccurate movie, but it looked like it would sell well. He wondered briefly if he'd be allowed input on some of the more technical parts of being an Auror, and about some of Mad-Eye's quirks. He remembered being trained by him, along with Snape and Remus. They'd been one of the most successful Auror teams on record, between Snape's ability to think sideways, Remus' supernatural strength and some of his more dubious talents, such as forgery and lock-picking. They'd been the ones to sneak into Malfoy Manor, and erect anti-magic wards, to prevent anyone from escaping before the missile was launched to destroy the Death Eaters who'd been using it as a base. They'd even bagged the Dark Lord himself in that operation; he'd been in Malfoy Manor with everyone else, a move that Severus had condemned as extremely sloppy.

His smile turned into a full-blown grin at the thought of Severus. During their training together, they'd gotten to be quite good friends, much to James' and Sirius' horror. They still saw each other every day, not unexpected, given that they both lived in Bel Air. Severus owned a cosmetics company, something that still slightly bewildered Peter. He would never have expected the cynical, sarcastic man to do anything of the kind; if anything, he would have expected him to stay an Auror. He'd taken a positive glee in dueling with his ex-housemates; it had made Peter wonder just what they'd done to anger him that much, and made him thank his lucky stars that he personally had never done anything more than charm Severus' hair into a blue mohawk.

Remus hadn't gotten off so easily; Severus, showing his usual slightly odd sense of humor, had gifted him, while keeping a completely straight face, with a package of flea bath and a leather collar and leash set. He'd also made perpetual barbed remarks about lapdogs, which Remus had taken surprisingly well; at least, it had surprised Peter. He didn't know if it had surprised Severus. He'd have to ask him the next time he saw him. He'd also have to ask about the Warren Zevon record; that had been a trick worthy of the Marauders. Peter grinned; here he was, rich and famous, and all he could do was think about the good old days, when he'd been broke and in constant danger. Maybe he needed more excitement in his life; he'd have to think about it.

Severus nodded thoughtfully. He didn't know and didn't care what his assistant had just said, but he needed to at least give the appearance of listening or she'd storm off in a huff again. He wondered how the hell he'd gotten where he was; he'd never wanted to be the corporate type. It had been his dream to own an apothecary shop, and he had, for a while. But then it turned into two shops, then a chain, and he was too busy managing them to spend time in the labs. Now, of course, he was rich enough to do as he pleased; but somehow, that didn't make him feel any better. He was stultifying bored with his life; the only fun he had anymore was arguing with Peter; Pete was always good for a session of bickering about insignificant things. He'd tease Pete about the tabloid rumors, and Pete would tease him right back about the same thing, then screech at him for calling him Pete, which he hated.

His assistant cleared her throat in annoyance, and Severus looked up guiltily. She was glaring at him, and holding the second quarter earnings report under his nose. He blushed slightly and accepted it, glancing over the figures. Sales were up in Europe, that was good, and the stock price had gone up again. He sighed deeply, making his assistant glare at him even harder, which he ignored. It just wasn't fair, that at the young age of twenty-nine he'd turned into a corporate drone. He was owner and CEO of his own company, but he still felt like a drone. He wore suits, for Slytherin's sake! Grey wool suits! With neckties!

Feeling hysteria approaching, Severus dismissed his assistant, who was still glaring, and turned to look out his window. It was early afternoon, and the California sun bathed LA in a warm glow. It was really quite beautiful, now that the infamous smog had been magicked away. He hated to be in the office on a day like this. He loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. Screw work; he was going to go get lunch and eat it on the grass in the park.

James groaned, and slumped over his desk. He was working late again, like usual, and he was only leaving because they were about to lock up the building, also like usual. He hated going home; he had a spacious flat, paid for by the Bureau of Magical Control, but it was so damn empty. By all rights, Lily should be waiting there, with their children, but no, she'd wanted a _career!_ Instead of marrying him after their terms as Aurors were over like she should have, she'd turned him down and gone off somewhere! Turned him down! The Gryffindor Quidditch captain! The most popular boy in school, and she'd turned him down. Obviously there was something wrong with her, to choose work over him, but he'd have overlooked it for her sake.

While he was ruminating on the injustice of life, the security guard had come to the door. He looked up and waved him off, signaling that he'd just soon as he got everything in his briefcase. He finished packing it, and strode out of the office, a false smile on his face, pretending that he wanted to go home. He'd already been made to take one mental health vacation, and he didn't want to have to take another. They meant that he had to stay home and stare at the walls, waiting until they said he could come back. He couldn't stop himself thinking if he didn't have something to do, and he'd grown to hate thinking. He could never stop wondering about what might have been, and what was going to be. He knew he was going to live a neat, empty little life and die a neat, empty little death, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He unlocked the door of his flat and dropped his bag just inside the door, then collapsed on the sofa and turned on the television, looking for something mindless to distract him. He soon found a marathon of some sitcom, and settled down for the night. He fell asleep three hours later, a laugh track still running through his head.

"Arthur!" called Minister Millicent Bagnold, recently re-elected Minister of Magic.

Her aide, Arthur Weasley, poked his head through the door. "Yes Milly? Did you need something?"

"Could you find me those reports about Dark activity in Wales? I've just heard some worrying news, and I'd like to check something."

"Certainly." Arthur pawed through a filing cabinet, and brought her a thick folder. "What did you hear?"

Millicent sighed. "Someone claims to have witnessed a manifestation in Dinas Emrys. The witness, one Mundungus Fletcher, says he saw the shade of Vortigern."

Arthur winced slightly. "Do you believe him?" It was obvious Arthur hoped that Fletcher was mistaken; he knew that shades required the darkest of sacrifices to summon, and he dreaded learning that someone was delving that deeply into the Dark Arts.

"Unfortunately, he does seem credible." Millicent looked through the reports quickly, and her shoulders slumped. "Holy Merlin. There have been disappearances, desecrations and thefts of artifacts. I don't think I've ever seen this many incidences of Dark Magic in my life, Arthur, not even during the war. Someone even tried to summon a demon!"

"Fuck." said Arthur succinctly. "What are we going to do?"

Millicent looked sternly at him over her glasses. "_We_ are not going to do anything. You are going to go home to your family, and I'm going to call the Aurors."

Arthur looked at her uncertainly. "But Milly, the Aurors were dissolved after the last war. We handed all our law enforcement over to the Muggle half of the government."

Millicent sighed. "Arthur, do you really trust those incompetents to deal something like this? I have no idea how big it's going to turn out to be, and I'm scared to find out. We need Aurors for a job like this. Some of the Aurors from the last war are still young enough and healthy enough. I'm going to call up the half-dozen best to start, and get reinforcements as necessary."

"Yes, Milly." Arthur said. "Is there anything you want me to do before I go home?"

"Just one thing. Could you find me-" Millicent closed her eyes and thought for a moment. "Remus Lupin's, Severus Snape's, Peter Pettigrew's, Sirius Black's, Lily Evans' and James Potter's mailing addresses? I need them here as soon as possible."

Arthur grinned, recognizing the names of some of the greatest heroes of the war. "I'll get right on it."


	3. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: I still need a beta reader, though, and any offers would be deeply appreciated. Suggestions for a new title are also more than welcome; I can't stand the one I've got, but I can't really think of anything else. If you can come up with a good title, I'll send you a bit of the next chapter. Also, the rate at which I'm updating is unusual for me and I don't know how long it will last.

Sirius sat in the waiting room, a scowl on his face. He was not pleased to have received a summons from the Ministry, and even less pleased to have received it when he had. Being divebombed by an owl during a show was not his idea of fun; it had crapped on his guitar and attacked the drummer, who'd tried to shoo it away. He lit a cigarette, deliberately disobeying the 'No Smoking' sign. If they didn't like it, so what? He didn't like having his show ruined. Fifteen minutes later, he'd finished his cigarette, lit another, and begun pacing up and down the length of the room. The door opened, and he twisted around to see if they'd finally decided that he'd waited long enough.

It wasn't a Ministry official as he'd hoped, but a tall, thin man in an expensive looking suit. He looked familiar somehow... Fuck. It was Snape. He should have recognized him; his face was on every other bottle in the pharmacy. And there was someone coming in behind him. Sirius recognized Peter right away; Hollywood had obviously been good for him; the mousy brown hair that Sirius remembered was golden from time in the sun, and he was deeply tanned. Sirius was astonished to hear the two chatting like old friends; they hadn't even noticed him. Well, if they were going to ignore him, he'd ignore them. He stubbed out the end of his cigarette and lit a new one, regretting, not for the first time, that he'd gotten into the habit of chain-smoking.

"Damn it Severus, did you have to be so nasty to the flight attendant?" Peter asked.

"Well Pete, if you asked for the steak and they gave you the coq au vin, wouldn't you have been pissed?" Severus replied, in reasonable tones.

Peter sighed in exasperation. "How many times have I told you not to call me Pete? I swear, the next time you do it, I'll call you _Sevvy!_"

Severus' face bore an expression of mock horror. "Anything but the cutesy nickname! Anything but that! Seriously though, how about I give you a nice piece of cheese and we call it even?"

"_Severus!_ I thought we agreed never to mention that again!" Peter moaned, then caught sight of someone in the corner, wreathed in smoke. A familiar someone. "Sirius! How are you?" He grinned, and bounded over to shake Sirius' hand. "It's been way too long."

Severus took the opportunity to get a close look at Black. Clad in worn jeans and a t-shirt, with his hair hanging messily around his stubbled face, he looked much the same as he had at twenty. The only things that were any different were the laugh lines around his eyes and his nicotine stained hands. Severus was impressed; even he, with all his potions, looked his age. He nodded. "Black." he acknowledged.

"Oh, come on, Severus. The schoolboy rival thing is so old it's not funny." Peter declared, ignoring the looks of astonished irritation he received from both Severus and Sirius. "I don't suppose you know why we're here, Sirius?" he asked hopefully.

"Not a clue. Sorry." Sirius said unapologetically. "Perhaps Snape knows; he was always a clever bastard. _Do _you know, Snapey?"

But Severus didn't answer; he was too busy staring at the woman who had just come through the door. The last time he had seen Lily Evans, he'd been certain that no woman could be more exquisite. He'd been wrong; the years had given her a glow of peace and contentment that she had previously lacked, and made her far more beautiful than she'd ever been before. Before he could stop himself, his eyes darted down to her hands; no rings. He quashed the feelings rising in him of desire and infatuation; they had to remain in the past, so that he cold tell himself that it had only been an unrequited teenage crush. But, oh God, she was enchanting. The smile he gave her was entirely genuine. "If it isn't Lily Evans! It's wonderful to see you again." He held out his hand, suppressing his longing to sweep her into his arms.

Lily smoothed her skirt and straightened her hair. She'd be damned before she let a Ministry official see her at less than her best. She steeled herself and opened the door, fully expecting to be chastised for sending back her check from the Auror Pension Department. Instead, she was met with the sight of three very familiar men. Sirius never changes, she thought fondly, seeing his usual sloppy clothing. Peter, though, had gone from a pudgy, retiring boy, to the successful actor she saw before her. He was still short, only 5'8", but it obviously hadn't impeded him in any way.

The one who really riveted her attention was Snape. His hair was long, and in need of a trim, curling around his collar as it was. He was nearly as tanned as Peter, and he wore an obviously expensive suit as if he'd been wearing suits all his life. Lily's eyes flicked up and down against her own will; my God, he was gorgeous. Maybe it was true what they said about how happiness made people more attractive; he certainly looked happy. He greeted her, and offered her his hand, which she gave a quick squeeze.

"Severus! The picture on the shampoo bottle doesn't do you justice. You look _good._" She turned to Sirius. "And you haven't changed a bit. What are you doing these days?"

He grinned rakishly at her around his cigarette. "Still in the music business, I'm afraid. Nicola wants me to get a proper job, but the entire idea of having to wear a suit is just... Ugh."

Lily smiled; she couldn't imagine Sirius in a suit either. "Who's Nicola? Your wife?"

Sirius' face took on a dreamy quality. "Not yet, but someday. I don't think I could live without her anymore."

Peter grinned. "And what does this goddess in human form look like?"

"She's the most beautiful woman in the world." declared Sirius.

"Absolute nonsense." said Severus.

Sirius bristled. "What? You don't think I can get pretty girls?" he asked, glaring at Severus.

"Oh, I'm certain she's beautiful, but she can't be the most beautiful." Severus said smoothly. "Because the most beautiful woman in the world is right here in the room with us." He bowed slightly to Lily, and took her hand and kissed it.

Lily blushed. She knew Severus was only teasing, but oh, how she wished he meant it. She heard a gasp from the doorway, and looked away from Severus' face. The figure standing there was vaguely known to her, but she didn't know from where. Greasy hair cut short, thick glasses, unhealthily thin and wearing cheap clothing. Where had she seen that man before?

Sirius sighed. It had only been two weeks since he'd last seen James, and he'd already managed to go further downhill. He hadn't been eating again, and by the looks of it, he hadn't been washing his hair, either. Glancing around the room, it was obvious that no one but him recognized James, which made him wince. He didn't want to think about what complete lack of recognition from Lily would do to him, but he had to, because he was about to have to deal with whatever the fall-out was going to be. James was glaring implacably at Snape, and Sirius gave a sub-vocal groan. He _would_ have had to see Snape kiss Lily's hand, wouldn't he? Maybe if he pretended nothing was wrong James would act like a normal human being. Ehh. It was worth a try.

"James!" he exclaimed, and darted forward to grasp his hand and shake it vigorously. "How's the Bureau of Magical Control these days?"

James turned his attention to Sirius. "Hellish, as you well know. Fucking paperwork. Still better than going home to an empty flat." He transferred his glare to Lily, who was talking with Peter, and didn't notice. Whe he realized that she wasn't even looking at him, he slumped. "So, how's Nicola?"

"She was promoted last month. Our first anniversary was yesterday; we went out to dinner."

James sighed, his jealousy palpable. "Lucky bastard. When are you going to get up your nerve and ask her?"

Sirius reddened slightly. "I don't know. We're already living together, so it's not like anything would change. 'Nicola Black' does have a nice ring to it, though. I've got enough cash to buy a ring, but I'm ashamed to admit my Gryffindor bravery has failed me. She'd be so gorgeous in a wedding dress, but..."

"It'd look odd at the wedding, the groom being shorter than the bride. Nicola's what, two or three inches taller than you?"

Sirius felt a reluctant grin tug at the corners of his mouth. "Only an inch and a half, as you know perfectly well."

Lily laughed, diverting James' attention, and making him look sick with envy. Snape was leaning down to whisper in her ear, and she was blushing and gazing up at him with ill-disguised admiration, and Peter was standing a few feet away, looking slightly amused. He obviously thought they were cute; to an extent, they were, but he didn't like the effect the scene was having on James. He never could tell what James was thinking anymore, and it scared him. In James' current state of mind, he could be planning Snape's murder, and Sirius would never be able to tell before it was too late. He didn't like Snape, certainly, but even Snape didn't deserve to die, not after everything he'd done during the war. He frowned, pondering how to make sure James didn't do anything atrocious.

Remus stood in the door, gazing at his old friends. Lily and Severus, an odd pair if there ever was one, were talking animatedly, and Severus was looking down at her with something near worship in his eyes. Peter was off to one side, alternating between watching them and gazing worriedly at Sirius and someone who must have been James; no one else had ever had hair that messy. James was a wreck, and Remus felt a pang of remorse for never calling him over the years, to make sure he was all right. Sirius was fiddling with a cigarette, a sure sign he was nervous; the smoke assaulted Remus' sensitive nose, and he sneezed loudly, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room towards him.

He smiled; it had been far too long. "Hello, everyone."

Millicent cleared her throat. A charm had alerted her when the one had gotten there, and she'd come out of her office, and watched the six greet each other, and try to figure out why they'd been summoned. "I'm rather disappointed, Mr. Snape, that you haven't figured it out. You have, or had anyway, the best tactical mind I've ever met; I would have expected you to realize what was going on as soon as you heard that Mr. Pettigrew had gotten identical letters."

Severus, to his credit, did not react to the criticism; he merely nodded politely and said, "Minister Bagnold."

"So why are we here?" asked Sirius, his brow wrinkled in thought.

Millicent sighed; they were obviously out of practice. "The Aurors have been reactivated. There something going on that the Muggles cannot handle, and so it is our job to fix it." She mentally congratulated herself on remembering to say 'Muggle' instead of 'mudblood'; it had been years, but she still had trouble with it occasionally. She looked at the faces staring at her, with various mixtures of horror, amazement and glee, and said, "Come in to my office, and I'll enlighten you as to the situation. It is Not Good." The capitals were clearly audible, and the group, as one, sighed. They knew all too well just how bad something had to be to merit spoken capitals from the unflappable Millicent Bagnold.


	4. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: I still need a beta reader, and any offers would be deeply appreciated. I've got a new title, courtesy of my sister. Also, the rate at which I'm updating is unusual for me and I don't know how long it will last. Lastly, Beddgelert is a real place, but all the details are going to be made up, because I've never been there. I apologize in advance to any Welsh people I may inadvertently offend, either by my misrepresentation of various locales or by the butchering of the Welsh language which will almost certainly happen in later chapters.

Once they were all seated at a hastily conjured conference table, Millicent began to speak. "I realize that you all have lives outside of the magical world, with the exception of you, Mr. Potter." She nodded to him, with a slight smile on her face. "I can understand why Mr. Lupin, Mr. Pettigrew and Mr. Snape would wish to avoid the magical world, but I am at a loss as to why Ms. Evans and Mr. Black are living as Muggles."

Lily raised her hand tentatively. "Minister, why would they have reasons to avoid the magical world?"

"Yeah. I'd like to know that as well." added Sirius.

Millicent's eyebrows shot up. "I thought you would have known; the Malfoy Manor raid made them into living legends. There's even been a book written about them."

Lily and Sirius turned to stare at the three individuals mentioned, who were all blushing to one degree or another. "It was nothing, really." denied Remus.

"For Merlin's sake, wolf-boy, don't be so modest. We _only_ got rid of the most dangerous Dark Lord in a century." Severus snapped. "I, at least, think we deserved those medals they gave us, even if _you_ tried to turn it down."

"But all we had to do was get rid of the guards and inscribe the runes on the doors!" protested Remus.

Peter sighed. "Remus, how many guards were there?"

"Three per door." Remus hedged.

"And how many doors were there?" Peter pursued.

"Umm... Six or seven?"

"Actually, it was twelve." interjected Severus.

"See?" said Peter. "We each took out a dozen Death Eaters, so stop trying to be humble. There were barely twenty left alive when the place was bombed."

"Yes, but we didn't exactly do it honorably, did we?" Remus didn't want to admit that he was a hero; it was just too alien a concept for someone who had considered himself to be a natural pariah for the majority of his life.

"Remus," Peter said, with growing impatience, "you broke their necks and I knifed them in the back. They had quick, easy deaths, which were more than they deserved. Alright, so Severus played with them a bit, but I'm sure he had his reasons."

Severus grinned bloodthirstily. "Oh, I certainly had my reasons. It was so gratifying, to hear them scream the way they made me scream when I was the school punching bag. Shouldn't be a Slytherin, they said. Mud blood, freak, aberration, they called me. I showed them." He seemed lost in pleasant memories, the exact nature of which no one wanted to speculate on.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Snape, we must return to the matter at hand. There has been a series of abductions in Northern Wales, in the area surrounding Dinas Emrys, and the shade of Vortigern was seen. We, that is, my aide Arthur and I, believe that the missing people have been sacrificed to summon the shade. Several churches have also been desecrated, and in one instance, burned to the ground."

"Minister, please tell me about the people who are missing." Remus leaned forward intently.

Millicent leafed through the folder in front of her. "Six young girls and eleven young men are missing. The oldest girl was," she looked down, "Twelve, the youngest girl was seven, the oldest man was twenty-five and the youngest man was nineteen. Other than the general age range, they have nothing in common."

Remus thought for a moment. "Severus, you know more about the Dark Arts than I do. What type of blood sacrifice is needed to temporarily summon a shade? And what would it take to permanently bind a shade?"

Severus closed his eyes briefly, then looked at Remus grimly. "It takes the blood of a virgin to summon a shade, and the blood of twenty-one strong young men to permanently bind one. At least, that's according to the Grindelwald manuscripts; some of the medieval grimoires say three virgins and thirty-three young men."

Remus sighed. "That's not as concrete as I would have liked. So they have summoned or will summon a shade either six or two times, and they're either halfway or a third of the way to having the sacrifice needed to bind the damned thing."

"So, obviously, " interposed Lily, "We need to prevent them from getting the rest of the sacrifice. Minister, what's the nearest town to Dinas Emrys?"

Millicent smiled at Lily indulgently; she'd always been Millicent's favorite. "Beddgelert, I believe."

Lily nodded. "Minister, I request permission to set up a base of operations in Beddgelert, for the purpose of investigating the disappearances in the area, with an eye to bringing them to a halt." The formal phrasing came back to her easily, and she smiled slightly in relief.

"Permission granted, Auror Evans." Millicent's smile widened. "You have carte blanche to do as you see fit, as do you all." She reached into her pocket, and withdrew six gold badges, which she tossed to each of them. "Your badges. Now go and make your arrangements."

Lily picked up her badge and examined it, and a wide grin spread slowly over her face. _Special Auror Agent First Class Lily Evans._ "A promotion, Minister?"

The others, who had merely tucked their badges away, took them out and stared at them. Millicent reveled in the looks of astonishment they gave her. "I received quite a bit of criticism for not giving you those ten years ago. I'm rectifying my mistake now. And Aurors?" They all looked at her. "To you, it's still Madam Bagnold. It sounds strange hearing my best agents calling me 'Minister', and I don't like it."

Sirius grinned, and gave her a mock salute. "Very well, Madam. Permission to depart?"

Millicent gave them her first honest grin in years. "Out, you scamp. And get some proper Auror's robes, the lot of you; I want you to look the part."

They got out, grins on their faces.

Having adjourned to a private dining room at the Leaky Cauldron, they began to plan. Or, more accurately, Lily and Severus began to plan. Having been the respective tactical officers of their teams, they were, by default, in charge. "So," Lily began, "How are we going to do this? We could go in as Aurors, we could go in with some kind of cover story, or we could try to do it from a distance. What do you think, Severus?"

"Well, I think that going in as Aurors would make whoever is doing this much more circumspect, and our jobs that much harder. It would be insanely difficult to do a job like this from a distance, so I think we should devise a cover story or cover stories."

"That's what I thought, too." agreed Lily. "Should we each have own individual cover story and stagger our arrivals, so that we look like mutual strangers, or go as a group, with a single pretext?"

"Actually, I think a combination of the two might work best." Sirius said. When they turned to look at him, he began to explain. "There must be at least one pub there, and I can easily persuade whoever's in charge of it that having a live singer is a good idea. James has a Ministry clearance that's separate from the Auror Division, so he can access the local archives without drawing much attention. Peter and Snape are going to be difficult, given how well-known they both are, but Peter can just spend most of his time as a rat, so that's no big deal. I've got a few ideas for Snape, but I don't think they're very good."

"Well, out with them." Severus demanded. "The other ideas are very practical, very workable, so whatever you've come up with for me can't be that bad."

Sirius shrugged. "Well, all right. This is where the group part comes in. I thought that maybe you and Lily could pose as a couple on a romantic getaway." He paused, waiting for a reaction, which he promptly got.

"That's horrible!" James proclaimed.

"That's perfect!" chorused Lily and Severus.

"No it isn't!" argued James. "It's perfectly appalling!"

"You're outvoted." Severus said curtly.

James lapsed into a glaring, resentful silence, arms crossed and lower lip protruding. The others knew all about the infamous 'Potter sulks', and ignored him in favor of continuing to plan.

"So, what's my cover going to be?" asked Remus.

"Hmm." Sirius thought for a moment. "Is drawing still a hobby of yours?"

Remus looked puzzled. "Yes, occasionally. Why?"

Sirius grinned. "From now on, you are Remy DuBois, an illustrator for a French history magazine, doing sketches of the fort on Dinas Emrys. I hope you haven't forgotten your accents."

"But of course not!" Remus declared, with exaggeratedly proper diction. He sounded as if he spoke English well, but not natively.

Lily nodded her satisfaction. "Very nice. I learned some Welsh from my grandmother; enough to get by anyway."

Severus nodded. "That will help a great deal; people are more willing to speak to people whom they don't perceive as outsiders."

"I think Sirius should go to Beddgelert first, so that he can do a little reconnaissance, and scope out bed and breakfasts or rental cottages for us to stay in. Remus should go two or three days after him, and keep an eye on Dinas Emrys itself. James should go down next, and start taking a look at property deeds, to see if there are any known Dark Magic users in the area; I'll pull the list from the archives for him. Peter can go with him, and do a little eavesdropping. I and Severus will go last, acting all lovey-dovey and going for long walks, which will just happen to be on the properties that James has marked as suspect."

"That sounds just fine." Severus said. "I do think that Black should leave as soon as possible, though."

"Yeah, all right. I can be ready to leave by tomorrow. Just let me have a word with Nicola and pack up my guitar and some clothes. I'll start now, actually." Sirius stubbed out his cigarette and got up. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm thrilled to be doing this again."

Remus grinned at him. "I think we all are, Padfoot."

James stood up. "I should go."

"Me too." added Peter. "We should let Lily and Severus get their story straight."

The former Marauders all left, to go to their respective homes, leaving Lily and Severus alone. "So, what _is_ our back story?" she asked.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it? We were Aurors together during the war, we met each other again recently, and sparks flew. I was in London last month on business, so that's when we met, and we've been talking to each other over the floo every day since then. A nice romantic story, but not too over done. It's close enough to the truth that we won't easily forget it. Do you see any flaws?"

"Not really. Are you going to have any trouble pretending to be besotted with me?"

"I doubt it." He knew he wouldn't; all he'd have to do was stop pretending that he _wasn't_. "Are you?"

"I don't think so." She smiled at him, glancing up from under her eyelashes, and immediately felt like a fool. _What am I? A schoolgirl with a crush? Get a hold of yourself._

Oh God, she was flirting with him; maybe he had a chance with her. Severus nerved himself and asked, "Shall I walk you home?"

Lily's heart thrilled, then she realized he didn't mean it that way. "Certainly. We should get in character as soon as possible."

Oh. Getting in character. Right. Not flirting, then. A smile concealing his disappointment, Severus stood and offered her his arm. "Shall we go then, dear?"

Lily forced a smile, and took his arm. "Certainly, darling."


	5. Interlude I

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

**READ THE NOTES!**

A/N: This is an interlude mainly intended to find out whether reviewers are open to the idea of a prequel. Well, it would be, if there were any reviewers. Come on people, this is the fifth chapter I've posted, and I have two, count'em, two reviews. Frankly, it's discouraging; I'd like to receive some input. Am I making any stupid mistakes? How's the dialogue? Does the plot seem coherent so far? I can't make this a better story unless someone tells me if and where I've gone wrong.

"Look around you. Do you see the two other trainees? They are your teammates. You will train with them. You will live with them. You will eat with them. When you have finished your training, you will work with them. You will have no secrets from them; they are your _family_ now. Young man!" Moody snapped, and Severus stopped glaring at the two Gryffindors and looked at him guiltily. "You were a Slytherin, weren't you?"

Severus nodded. "Yes sir, I'm a Slytherin."

"No, you are _not_!" Moody declared. "You stopped being a Slytherin the moment you walked out of Hogwarts. Now you are an _Auror_." He waved at Remus and Peter. "They are not Gryffindors anymore. They are _Aurors_. You are _comrades _in the greatest, most honorable brotherhood known to wizardkind!" he yelled, and it reverberated off the high, vaulted ceiling. "Former Gryffindors are the best backup a man could ever dream of! And you!" he pointed accusingly at Remus and Peter. "Thank your lucky stars _each_ and _every_ day that your team's tactician was a Slytherin when he was in school! The infamous Slytherin cunning _will_ save your lives someday!" The two had the grace to look abashed, and stop giving Severus evil looks. "Now, what are you?"

"Aurors, sir."

"_I can't hear you!_" he shrieked.

Wondering if he was deaf, they repeated it more loudly. "AURORS, SIR!"

"_I still can't **hear**__you!_" He held a hand up to his ear, as if listening for some barely detectable noise.

"_WE'RE AURORS, SIR!_" they bellowed, exasperated.

"Good. Now repeat that to yourselves every day. You're Aurors, and I'll have your hide if you forget it."

So, is a prequel something you'd like to see, or should I scrap it entirely?


	6. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine.

A/N: Still need a beta reader. I'd like to thank **Dumbledore, excessivelyperky **and** Asha Ice **for their lovely reviews and wonderful input. This is an almost entirely new section, written to fill in some background. I left it out of the first version, and my sister, who has graciously agreed to be my plot editor, started going 'Huh?' during some parts, so I wrote this. Not much plot development, but hopefully some nice character development. Also, I think that I might be the first person ever to use MBA as a verb. For 'MBA'd idiot', please read 'idiot with an MBA'. I'd write that in the story, but it disrupts the flow.

Lily unlocked the door of her flat, sighing. She'd let Severus walk her as far as her building, but no further. She hadn't wanted him to see the mess that was currently masquerading as her sitting room, of all the ridiculous things to worry about. Opening the door, she sighed even more deeply, regretting that she'd ever given her mother a key. Her mother was perched on the arm of a chair, the only surface not covered with empty pizza boxes, coffee mugs and the red-inked drafts of articles. "Honestly, Lily, you'd think that a _career woman_ like yourself would have higher standards. Not only do you live in a pigsty, you haven't even got a greeting for your mother."

Lily turned scarlet, and scrambled for something to say. "I was just startled; I thought that the days of having my mother waiting for me to come home from a date were long past." Before she was even half-through saying it, she realized it was the wrong thing to say.

"Well, finally! I've been despairing of you ever settling down like your sister. I've told you and told you that you should be more like your sister Petty; only a year older than you and her tenth wedding anniversary is next year! And Vernon is such a good man. He's been promoted, you know, got his own secretary and everything."

"Yes Mother, I know." Oh yes, she _knew._ Guess who Petty called to bitch about her husband to; that's right, Lily. Her mother was going to have a _nasty_ shock when the divorce went through, and Vernon moved in with that secretary of his.

"What's this young man of yours like, then?" Her mother got straight to the point.

"He's gorgeous, and he's taking me to Wales next weekend." Lily blushed; that was _certainly_ not what she'd meant to say.

"All you know about him is that he's gorgeous, and you're letting him take you God knows where? I thought I raised you better than that!"

"_Actually_, I've known Severus since we were both eleven, and got into a terrible fight over a library book. I probably know more about him than his own mother."

Her mother eyed her dubiously. "Well, if you say so."

"Was there any particular reason you're here, Mother? It's been a long day, and I really do need to get some sleep."

"Hmmph. I suppose I'll just leave, then." Her mother got up, fastidiously dusted herself off, and left.

Lily brushed aside some pizza boxes and collapsed on the couch; she was asleep within ten minutes, not having moved once.

"Hello, Margery? This is Severus. I'll be staying in Britain until further notice; something's come up." He paused, and listened to his assistant's outraged demands to know what was going on. "No, I'm not going to tell you. It's personal, and it's absolutely none of your business." More outraged screeches. "I don't care!" He hung up, slamming the phone down so violently that it fell off the table. He stormed over to the mini bar, and took one of the bottles at random. "Echh." _What is this shit?_ He looked at the label; it said crème de menthe. He took another, more tentative sip. _Cough syrup. Muggle cough syrup._

He tossed the bottle in the trash, and slumped onto the bed. Looking around the room, he sighed. He spent so much time in hotel rooms it wasn't funny; and he had begun to hate them. No, scratch that; he'd begun to hate them years ago; now he outright loathed them. There was no damn point in having a house anymore; he lived in hotels for nearly half the year. He owned the damn company; he should be able to delegate, for Slytherin's sake! But could he? Nooo. The one time he'd tried it, the Princeton educated executive he'd sent in his place had nearly gotten the company sued for slander, of all things. Just went to show, didn't it? His own formal education had stopped at age eighteen, and he had ten times the common sense as that MBA'd idiot. Maybe the more education you got, the less common sense? Probably not. Lily'd gone to college, and she was the most level-headed person he'd ever met.

Lily... Now there was a problem. How was he going to hide how he felt about her? How he'd always felt about her? He'd been fascinated with her since he'd first seen her, the little redhead with the brass to walk right into the Restricted Section and take a book. She'd been the only one, in all his years at Hogwarts, that he'd ever had a decent conversation with, and that had only been the once. He hadn't been a Gryffindor, hadn't had the nerve to try and get what he wanted so badly. By the time he _had_ developed that kind of courage, she'd been Potter's girlfriend, and off-limits to anyone who wasn't suicidal. And it seemed that that courage had left him again. Here he was, a millionaire business owner, and he was sitting in his room brooding about her, the same way he had when he'd been sixteen. It was pathetic. And he was late for a business dinner. Shit.

"Nicola, where did you put my school trunk?" Sirius was going through his closet, the one he'd thought his trunk was in, and it wasn't there.

Nicola answered, her voice slightly muffled, "The one by the front door, with all the other luggage. Why?"

"I just need a few of my old things." Sirius said evasively.

"Well, I don't know what's in there; I could never get it to open." She stepped through the closet door, and Sirius' jaw dropped. She was wearing a short, tight cocktail dress, and from Sirius' position on the floor, he could see some very interesting things. "What is it you need?" Sirius, caught off guard, said absently, "Just my old Auror badge and robes. Oh, and my knives."

There was a clatter as Nicola dropped the hanger that was in her hands. "_You _were an _Auror_!"

He shouldn't have said that. Not only was he forbidden to, there was the whole reputation. Among Muggles, an Auror was one step up from James Bond, and every two-bit DMLE hack cashed in on it as hard and as often as possible, which was very often indeed. There went his nice, private life. "Yeah, I was an Auror. Recon Agent Second Class Black. First Class, by the end of the war."

Nicola went and sat heavily on the bed. "So, Sirius, why didn't you ever mention this?" Her voice was mostly shocked, but there was a note of anger now as well.

"Because I thought that part of my life was behind me forever. I'm not proud of having sent my own brother to rot in Azkaban, you know." He said bitterly. The oft-hurled epithet 'blood traitor' still stung him on the raw.

Nicola paled. "Oh... Yes. I can understand not wanting to talk about that. So why do you need your old things?"

"I've been recalled to active duty. They've re-formed the Aurors, and given me a promotion," he pronounced the word with relish, "on top of everything else. I am now Special Agent First Class Black." He flashed a quick grin. "Don't worry, though. With my luck, I'll be taken out of the field within the year, and given a cushy job at the Academy."

"And you just had to spring this on me right before I go to dinner with an important client, didn't you?" she snarked, fully recovered from her earlier shock.

"Be fair, Nicola!" He gave her his most charming grin. "After all, you were doing something distracting at the time!"

"Oh? And would that be?"

"Being ravishingly beautiful. I'm not sure I like the idea of anyone but me seeing you, when you're dressed like that."

Nicola snorted. "You're a jealous fool, Sirius Black, but I'll humor you just this once." She picked up a charcoal grey wrap from the foot of the bed, and brandished it at him. "Does this satisfy you, you prude?" she teased.

He smiled at her. "Not quite. Your outfit needs just one thing; stay here." He dashed out to the entry hall, and dragged his trunk into the bedroom. He rummaged through it frantically, and at last drew out a small black leather case. Turning to Nicola, he flipped open the top. "The Black family jewels." Nicola's eyes bugged out, staring. Sirius took a rope of black pearls and a heavy silver ring set with a square-cut onyx. "These, I think." Nicola, still stunned, made no move to resist as he put the jewelry on her. He stepped back, and smiled widely.

"Sirius Black," Nicola said threateningly, "Is there anything else you haven't told me? Aside from having jewelry worth more than I make in a year and being an Auror?"

Sirius backpedaled hastily. He really didn't want to be on the receiving end of one of Nicola's rants. "Um, well..."

"Out with it!"

Sirius began to babble. "Well, technically I'm a lord, and I'm planning to ask you to marry me, and I'm being sent to Wales for the next month, and the ring is the Black family ring and it was me who left the milk out, and I really think that pink's a horrible color on you, and I can turn into a dog at will, and I don't think that there's anything else, so please don't be angry!" Nicola seemed ready to explode, so he transformed and threw himself under the bed.

Instead of exploding, however, she slumped on the bed. "Is pink really that bad on me?" Sirius poked his snout out from under the bed cautiously, and Nicola gave him a half-hearted glare. "Bad dog. Get out here so I can take a look at you." Sirius slunk out, all too aware of the possibility of being swatted. Nicola looked at him appraisingly. "You'll take a fairly large collar, I think." she said, eyeing the worried looking Newfoundland, who promptly became human again.

"Collar!" Sirius asked in alarm.

"You honestly didn't think I'd let you get away with leaving the milk out, did you? I am going to get a collar and leash, Sirius, and I am going to _walk you_ when you get back from Wales."

"So you're not angry about the other things?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh, I'm _furious. _I just haven't got the time to deal with it right now. I need to go to this dinner, and I need to persuade this guy Snape that my firm is the best to market his stuff in the UK."

"Somehow, I don't think it will be that difficult." He offered her a weak smile.

"Whatever you say, Sirius. Just be gone before I get home; I need time to deal with this."

Sirius nodded mournfully. It was no more than he expected.

Peter flopped down on the bed in his hotel room, still going over the day's events in his mind. Turning his new badge over and over in his hands, he marveled at how much everyone had changed, not least himself. He'd noticed, even if the others hadn't, the two team pictures on Madam Bagnold's desk. Severus, Remus and him, standing on front of the bombed out shell of Malfoy Manor, looking so damn young. He remembered having that taken, the day after the raid. They hadn't even had the chance to sleep, or clean up. Remus, so pale and skinny, his knuckles all raw from the fight, and Sev, flecked with spots of dried blood that looked like macabre freckles, with a grin on his face that still scared Peter, even after all those years. And then there was Peter himself; framed by the two taller wizards and still bearing traces of puppy fat, fingering a wickedly sharp stiletto. He looked nothing less than a 'maleficent cherub', in Lily's words. They'd become heroes, at the age of nineteen.

The picture of Lily's team had been taken even younger, the day they'd all finished training. She'd been grinning from ear to ear, so proud of her new badge, polished to a shine and displayed prominently on her chest. James had been even prouder, stand beside her, with his arm around her waist possessively, looking at her, his adoration plain to see. Sirius standing on tip-toe behind the two of them, with an impish grin on his face, making rabbit ears above James' head. He'd spent most of the meeting staring at it, wishing he could be that innocent again, then abruptly withdrawing his wish. After all, he'd be a far different now if it weren't for the war, and he wouldn't change his current life for the world; wouldn't change any of their lives.

Lily practically radiated a serene happiness. Remus, although graying prematurely, seemed so at peace. Sirius was in love, for Merlin's sake, and wasn't it odd to see him sticking with one woman for more than a month? The only thing that he'd even remotely think about changing was James. James, who'd seemed the strongest of them all, once. He'd fallen apart, and Peter wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to put himself back together. It hurt so badly to see him this way, knowing he couldn't do anything to help him. Peter sighed. He'd better start thinking about the mission, and get back in the old mindset, while he still had time. No point in useless could-have-beens.


	7. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. Nicola Lewis is my creation, however, so ask beforehand if you want to use her.

A/N: Still need a beta, but have despaired of ever getting one. I'd like to thank **Dylan S. Thompson **and** excessivelyperky **for their lovely reviews. My sister has persuaded me to scrap the original ending, so the period of nearly-daily updates is definitely over. I think that the Latin is right, but I couldn't remember how to decline 'family', so it might not be. If you want something to do while you're waiting for the next update, go through what's already up and find all the references; there are loads of them. The events of my story 'Star' are referred to here, so you might want to go read and review that.

Severus looked at his watch, and winced. He was standing outside the restaurant, fifteen minutes late for a business dinner _he'd_ scheduled, rescheduled actually, and he had no idea how he was going to his tardiness to the ad executive. He decided, after a moment of frantic thought, to merely apologize and offer no explanation. After all, she'd be the one trying to convince him that her firm was the best, not the other way around. If she didn't like it, he could just find another firm, he told himself. It didn't help; now he felt guilty about being late _and_ about contemplating an abuse of power. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he went in.

The waiter brought him to the table just as another waiter pulled a chair out for the ad executive. Relieved of the need to apologize, he simply said, "Hello, I'm Severus Snape."

"I'm Nicola Lewis, the representative for Bonner-Glynn." She picked her water glass and turned it in her hands nervously. The gleam of a ring caught his eye, and as he looked at it, he felt a sense of deja vu.

Eyeing the ring, he asked, "You wouldn't happen to know a Sirius Black, would you?" then flushed slightly. A personal question was not how he'd intended to start the evening.

Nicola scowled. "Yes, I know him."

"I am thrilled to finally meet you, then. Sirius speaks very highly of you indeed." _In fact, he never shuts up about you._

She smiled sourly. "I'd like to able to return the compliment, but Sirius has never mentioned knowing you, let alone spoken highly of you."

A smile tugged at the corner of Severus' mouth. "Nor is he likely to. He and I were mortal enemies during our school days, and even during while we worked together for the DMLE, we only had an armed truce."

Nicola looked blank. "DMLE?"

"Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We were Aurors together." Severus smiled grimly. "I'm not surprised he doesn't talk about it. Most Aurors don't."

"What's being an Auror like?" Nicola asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Something like being in the Marines and something like being a secret agent, and completely different from either." Severus thought for a moment. "We went through absolutely grueling training in a whole range of things. Sirius was a Recon Agent, so I don't know what he was taught, exactly, but I had to practice playing chess for two hours a day, and learn to lie under truth spells." he shook his head, a smile on his face. "I remember one operation..." and trailed off, as the waiter put a plate in front off him.

Eyes wide, Nicola said, "Tell me. Please!"

"We, I and Peter Pettigrew, were assigned to find out who the next to be attacked were going to be. Remus, the third in our team, was in hospital, so it was just the two of us. We heard, from a source, that Bella Lestrange kept a list of targets in her pocket, like a to-do list, and we decided to get it. We found her in a bar, and Peter went right up to her, and tried to chat her up. I thought he'd completely lost his mind. He was standing there, all five foot six of him, his arm around her waist and a filthy grin on his face when her husband, Rodolphus, came in and threw him across the room." Severus snickered. "I'd been sitting at a corner in the back keeping out of sight, and he landed right, I mean right, on my lap." He gestured with his fork. "So I stood up, right, and I held up Peter by the collar, and asked, very loudly, 'What's the matter, Bella? Newest lover not up to scratch?' Rodolphus was looking like he was going to start throwing curses at any moments, so I acted oblivious and said, 'Well, if you don't want him anymore, I can cut him up for potions ingredients. Thanks, Bella.' and I just walked out the door."

Nicola looked enraptured. "Did you ever get the plans?"

"Peter had picked her pocket when he wrapped her arm around her waist, actually. It was the damnedest thing I'd ever seen."

She giggled delightedly, and took another bite of her dessert. "So what happened after that?"

Severus shrugged slightly. "The war was over a month later. Peter'd been planning to go to Hollywood for ages, and I wound up tagging along. Not much of a story, really."

Nicola was staring at him. "The Peter Pettigrew you mentioned is _the_ Peter Pettigrew?"

Severus shrugged and nodded. "Yeah. I was going to see if I could persuade him to be in the ad campaign here, actually. Him and his latest girlfriend; I think he's seeing Dora Tonks right now."

Nicola gulped audibly. "Speaking of the ad campaign, what would-"

Severus interrupted. "Don't worry, you've got it." He gave her his most charming grin. "After all, if Sirius trusts you, then so do I. And anyway, you're the only person who's ever sat through one of my war stories." He nodded to her slightly, and the waiter handed him the bill. "Don't worry, I'll pay the tab."

Nicola grinned, but she still didn't understand how she'd just gotten a multi-million pound contract without trying. One of those things, she supposed.

Sirius lit a cigarette, and sat awkwardly in the cheap plastic chair. It was the final planning meeting for what they had laughingly decided to call 'Operation Reunion', and he was, yet again the first person to arrive. To the chronically late Sirius, it was a strange new habit, and he wondered what it said about his social life. Nothing good, he gloomily decided. It probably meant that he had too much time on his hands. He took a long drag on his cigarette, and sighed deeply. He had tried calling Nicola, but she was screening her calls. Evidently he was still in the doghouse with her, no pun intended. He sighed again.

"Oh dear, dear, dear. The ever-mirthful and misnamed Sirius Black has a case of the sighs. Whatever is the world coming to?"

Sirius looked up. "Snape." he acknowledged.

Severus smirked. "I met that girlfriend of yours last night. I didn't realize you were serious enough about her to give her your family ring."

Sirius let the pun pass unmentioned. "Ehh. It went with the outfit." He blew smoke at Severus, and watched with detached amusement as he sputtered in outrage.

"Oh my. Trouble in paradise?" Severus' voice dripped with arch sympathy.

"You could say that. She's furious that I've been keeping secrets."

"What secrets have you kept?" Severus prodded, insatiably curious.

"Nearly everything, actually. That I was an Auror, that I wasn't as broke as I seemed, that I was an Animagus, that I'm the current head of the Black family, the whole kit and caboodle."

"Black, even I don't mention being an Auror very much, and I don't go in for the whole Gryffindor false modesty thing. It's just so tacky, to go around bragging about it." Reassurances sounded bizarre coming from Snape, but he obviously meant it. "I understand about the Black family part, too. Three of your cousins died as Death Eaters and your brother is doing life in Azkaban. Your family has a really lousy reputation."

"You just had to mention Reggie, didn't you, Snape?" Sirius dropped his head onto his hands.

Severus looked honestly clueless. "Why shouldn't I? He'd killed three innocent people; you should be glad you helped capture him."

Sirius turned, and gave Severus a Look. "You were a Slytherin, damn it. You of all people should know family comes before everything else to a Pureblood."

Severus rolled his eyes. "I'm a half-blood, remember?"

The corner of Sirius' lips twitched involuntarily upwards. "I'd forgotten, actually."

"Well, I was completely unwelcome in Slytherin House, and all I learned, socially speaking, was dueling etiquette, mainly from Lucius Malfoy, may he rot in hell."

"Then let me enlighten you. _Dulce et decorum est pro familia mori._ It is sweet and proper to die for one's family. Your loyalty is first to your family, and second to everything else, including yourself, the law, and whatever god or gods you believe in."

Severus winced. "I think I understand it now."

"What is he understands?" Remus asked from the doorway.

"The meaning of life." answered Sirius promptly.

Remus smiled. "So, what is it?"

"Forty-two." announced Severus.

Remus shook his head. "Science fiction, Sirius? Just when I think I know you, you do something I'd never expect."

Sirius shrugged, and gave him a wan smile. "Well, I can't very well be onstage all the time, can I?" He snuffed out the last of his cigarette and lit a new one. "Anyway, I'm not a complete illiterate, you know." He grinned.

"Really? I'd never have guessed. Here I was thinking you only read sheet music and dirty magazines." Peter said, voice laden with sarcasm. He dropped into the chair next to Sirius and conjured a cup of coffee.

"Hey, now I'm offended!" Sirius declared. "I haven't needed sheet music for years!"

"But you don't deny the dirty magazines?" pursued Remus.

Sirius sputtered helplessly, and Peter laughed so hard he choked on his coffee.

Severus passed him some paper napkins, which he used to mop the table ineffectually. "I don't understand how you can drink that slop, Pete."

"What have I told you about calling me _Pete?_" Peter asked, with a creditable growl.

"Not to." Severus said unrepentantly.

"And didn't I tell you that there would be consequences?"

"There never have been before." Severus was flippant.

"Shove it, Sevvy."

"Ooh, Sevvy!" cooed Sirius breathily, grinning at the sight of Severus slowly turning beet red.

"Is this a bad time?" asked Lily, waggling her eyebrows suggestively as she peeped through the half-open door.

Severus went from beet red to an unhealthy shade of purple and make a horrified but incoherent croaking noise.

"I think you've killed him." observed Remus, as the erstwhile 'Sevvy' collapsed into a chair.

"Oh dear. And I was so hoping that he'd open the meeting for me." mourned Lily, then asked brightly, "Just what did I walk in on, anyway?"

"An argument about nicknames. I object to being called Pete, and plan on calling him Sevvy every single time he does it."

"I yield! I yield!" moaned Severus. "Just make it stop!"

"Very well. I hereby ban the use of the nicknames 'Pete' and 'Sevvy' from being used again." Lily grinned diabolically. "'Peter Rabbit' and 'Snapeykins' may be used at will, however."

"You evil, evil woman."

"Hey, it's what I do best." she smirked, then abruptly sobered. "Really though, we need to finalize these plans." She looked over at Severus, and had to take a deep breath. '_Must remain professional._' she reminded herself, gritting her teeth. "Sirius, do you know where James is?"

He shrugged helplessly. "He should be here by now; when I talked to him an hour ago, he said he was about to leave."

As if summoned by his name, James walked through the door, weaving and smelling slightly of booze. For the sake of diplomacy, Lily ignored this, and merely cast a sobering charm at him under the table. "Now, about these departure schedules..."


	8. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. The pub is, so far as I know, fictional, but I wouldn't be surprised if it were really called that.

A/N: This is shorter than the usual two thousand or so words, but only by a bit, and I make up for it with a significant and obvious plot development, as well as one that's equally important, but a bit more subtle. I apologize for the length, but certain individuals (eyes professors nastily) think that just because I attend night school, I must have unlimited time. WTF? I'm working two jobs and studying for an Associate's degree and a GED simultaneously, you twits! I'm a drop-out, not a deadbeat! I apologize for the rant, but I still haven't gotten around to getting an LJ, and I need _somewhere_ to vent.

* * *

Sirius looked around Beddgelert, and sighed. What a dreary little place. It was quite scenic, yes, and it was popular with a certain type of tourist, but there was no nightlife, no neon, no nothing. Sirius, a city boy from birth, hated it. James would love it though; he'd grown up somewhere not much different from this. Godric's Hollow was just over the border near Bristol, actually. Sirius smiled slightly, remembering the two summers he'd spent living with the Potters, then came back to the present day. The Two Dragons was the only pub in town, and he was standing outside of it wearing a funny little smile, and getting some very odd looks. He shrugged slightly and went in.

"Hello." He nodded to the bartender, looking around surreptitiously. Good, the bar was nearly empty. "I was told you'd be the person who'd know if there were any jobs in town." He looked slightly embarrassed. "Y'see, I left my wallet at the last petrol station I stopped at, and now I'm in a bit of a tight spot."

The bartender eyed him suspiciously. "What do you know how to do?"

"I'm a musician by trade, but I can do things like work a till if I need to." Sirius shrugged. "I'm flexible." He looked around, as if for the first time, and smiled visibly when he saw the little stage area. "I don't suppose you'd like a guitarist for a few weeks, would you?"

The barman considered it, and Sirius could almost see the wheels turning in his head. It was late summer, tourist season. Tourists like to be entertained; music was entertainment. They'd be here buying drinks while watching the entertainment. "All right. There's a spare room upstairs you can use if you want. I'll send someone out to help you unpack your car. What's your name?"

Sirius was the very image of grateful relief. "Thanks. I'm Stephen Brown. I hate to impose, but could I use your phone? I need to cancel my credit cards." He flashed another winsome smile.

"Feel free; you do work here now."

Sirius nodded, and sauntered out to the car to get his guitar.

* * *

In a London conference room, the four day wait was over. "The first report from Sirius is here." announced Lily, holding aloft a sheet of charmed parchment. "His cover story passed, and he didn't need to use magic."

James, who had been slumped in a corner as was apparently his wont, perked up slightly. "What story did he use?"

"He's a tourist who's lost his wallet, and he's making the money he needs to get home singing in the bar there. He says that there's quite a lot of gossip, and he can't understand a word of it, because it's all in Welsh, but they do seem upset about something."

"Not good." declared Severus. "Peter, how are you at long-term translation charms?"

Peter looked up from his cheese sandwich. "Passable, I suppose. Why?"

"We may send you to Wales early. Beddgelert is a Restricted Casting Zone for those of us who aren't going as ourselves, so Sirius can't cast non-essential spells. Unfortunately, we defined everything but combat spells as non-essential for Sirius, so as far as his lack of language skills go, we're up shit creek without a paddle. You, however, are still outside the zone, and can cast spells to your ratty little heart's content." Severus smirked briefly. "Do you think that if you cast a translation spell, it would last more than a week?" he asked, all trace of humor gone.

Peter waggled his hand. "Maybe it will, maybe it won't. I haven't had to do long term spells since we were in training. Mind-based spells were always something I was good at, though."

"How soon can you be ready?" Lily asked, her eyes on the parchment, where fresh words were appearing.

"Fifteen minutes; I'd just need to get my bag and shrink it."

"Then for God's sake, go! The whole village is having mass hysterics about something. I think someone else may have gone missing."

Peter nodded and Disapparated with a pop.

* * *

"I've heard that wizards are taking them!"

"I've heard that one of their dragons has got loose and they're covering it up!"

"Really?" the first speaker sounded intrigued. "Do they cover things up often?"

"Oh yes." the second speaker said knowledgably. "It happens all the time."

"Hmmph. I always said you couldn't trust magic."

Peter winced. If this was the way popular opinion was headed, it would get dangerous fast to be a wizard in Beddgelert. He scurried to the other end of the alley, and lurked in the shadow of a dustbin.

"Isn't the new singer at the pub sexy?" a teenage girl gushed. "And he has such a gorgeous voice!"

"That's not all that's gorgeous." the leer in the other girl's voice was clearly audible.

"Not by half." a new voice added. The voice, belonging to a teenage male, had distinct tones of lust to it.

The first girl's voice was shocked as she said, "John! You never told us you were gay!"

The boy was conspicuously defensive. "I am not! I'm male, not blind!"

The second girl's voice was heavy with sarcasm. "Yes, John. You're quite obviously as straight as a ruler."

Peter left as the boy began to sputter. It might make good blackmail material, but it was of absolutely no use in terms of the operation.

* * *

It was three hours before Peter's first report came in. _Two young men snatched on same day; one from home, one from work. Total number missing is fifteen, and the rate is steadily increasing. Predict at least three more in next week. Recommend that operation be greatly accelerated. Other news, S. is now object of worship among local teenage population._ _V. surprising._

"Well?" Lily prodded, trying to look over Severus' shoulder at the parchment. Severus groaned inaudibly; having her so close to him was doing terrible things to his concentration. Stepping away slightly, he handed her the report, which she read quickly. "How is it that Peter, even under the worst circumstances, can always say something snide?"

"He learned it from me, I'm afraid." Severus admitted sheepishly. "Almost by osmosis."

Lily gave him a mock glare. "It always seemed to me that the two of you shared a single brain, and ten years later, here's the proof." She snorted. "Osmosis, my ass."

Severus couldn't stop his eyes flicking downwards, and he felt his cheeks heat. "Are you implying that I'm a halfwit, Ms. Evans?" he purred, desperately trying to keep his mind off her anatomy.

Lily smiled slightly. "I'm not _implying_ anything, Severus, I'm damn well stating it outright!"

He tutted. "And they let you out in public with a mouth like that?"

Lily gave him a quick grin, and took a step closer to him. "Nah, I escaped."

Remus broke in. "As amusing as listening to the two of you bicker is, perhaps, just perhaps, we could return to the matter at hand?" The two twitched, and sprang apart. Remus shook his head. If neither of them realized the other was head over heels for them, then he certainly wasn't going to help. Honestly, they both could be so unaware sometimes.

Severus recovered first. "James, you leave tomorrow morning, Remus, you leave tomorrow afternoon and Lily and I leave day after tomorrow, all right?" Remus nodded, James shrugged indifferently, and Lily gave him a thumbs up. "Good. You two go pack then."

Remus went, concealing a smile at Severus' attempt, either conscious or unconscious, to get Lily alone. Then he glanced over at James, and his smile vanished. James was standing and glaring murderously at the clueless couple, and his hand had slipped to his waist, and was fondling his wand in his holster. Hoping to prevent some kind of incident, he tapped James on the shoulder. "Come on, Prongs. Let's go get a drink somewhere."

Upon hearing his old nickname, James' face cleared, and when he turned to Remus, he bore a pleasant expression. "Yes, let's go." As they left, however, he shot another poisonous look over his shoulder at Severus, who was laughing softly at something Lily, _his _Lily, had said. He was going to make the bastard pay.

* * *

Severus and Lily looked at each other uncertainly. "So," Lily began, a bright, nervous smile on her face. "I'll call the owner of the cottage, and you can..." She trailed off, and tried to think of something for Severus to do.

He tensed, and looked at her with something like desperation. "I don't think I can do this, Lily."

Her head snapped up. "Do what?" she asked, sounding worried.

"Lie like this." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, not wanting to see her face. "I'm in love with you, Lily." He turned and fled, before Lily could even draw a breath.

She sat down heavily, staring at the door, which still hung open. The anguished look on his face, as he told her what she'd wanted to hear so badly, and his abrupt departure afterwards took all of the joy out of it. She'd known ever since she'd first seen again after all those years that she wanted him; he'd gone from a frighteningly intense teenager to a laid-back, sarcastic man who made her breath catch every time she looked at him. Just for a moment, the insecure teenager had come back, and instead of engendering the slightly amused incomprehension it had before, it had been almost endearing.

She hadn't felt like this much of a sap since her first date with James, and it startled her slightly. She'd thought that the butterfly feeling of first love was over, and that she was old enough to resist the lure of rose-tinted spectacles. The realization that even after one failed serious relationship and numerous boyfriends, she still wanted hearts-and-flowers romance shook her, and she dropped her head into her hands. Why did emotions have to be so damn complicated?

* * *

Severus could have kicked himself. He'd absolutely humiliated himself; Lily would probably never be able to look at him with a straight face again. He was pathetic, telling her about a hopeless devotion he'd harbored since he'd been fourteen. He knew it would never come to anything; in her eyes, he'd always be the greasy, destitute Slytherin with the used textbooks and patched robes. Why couldn't he have fallen for a woman who'd never known him in school, never seen him at his lowest and most wretched? He was rich, he was successful; hell, he'd even gotten his teeth fixed; he could have any woman he wanted. Except the only one who mattered. Lily Evans could never possibly want him, and it _hurt_. He sighed deeply, and heaved himself off the bed. He might not have nepenthe, but alcohol would make a damn good substitute. 


	9. Interlude II

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: I'm a horrible person for leaving you hanging after the way the last chapter ended, but the new chapter is being an absolute bitch to write, and won't ready for another few days. Bits of this interlude came from a conversation I had with my sister, who pointed out that Lily, Severus et al. would have at least known about punk. I couldn't get the image of Severus as a punk out my head, and I had to write it. This will be the last look inside James' head for a while, because it's gotten to be a rather scary place, at least in the main story. I would also like to thank my wonderful new beta, **Dylan S. Thompson.**

* * *

Mad-Eye Moody paced up and down the line of new recruits, glaring. James' eyes flicked over his fellow trainee Aurors as well and nearly sniggered out loud. What was Snape wearing? He looked again and could barely restrain a gasp; was that a _safety pin_ through his eyebrow? His eyes snapped to a random point on the ceiling as Moody began to speak.

"I am _disgusted_!You were asked, not unreasonably, to dress as Muggles," he glanced contemptuously at them. "I have looked, considering every possible permutation of fashion, and there is _no excuse_!" He pointed accusingly at Frank Longbottom, a rather inoffensive Gryffindor a year above James in school. "_You!_ Tell me just what the _hell_ you think you're wearing!"

Frank, who was wearing a long yellow raincoat and dark green boots, flinched. "M-M-Muggle clothing?" he asked hopefully, his eyes wide.

Moody shook his head despairingly. "That, Mr. Longbottom, is a Muggle rain slicker. It is meant, unsurprisingly, to be worn in the _rain._ Is it raining, Mr. Longbottom?"

Red-faced, Frank murmured, "No."

"Speak up," Moody snapped.

"No!" Frank repeated, staring at the floor in shame.

Moody nodded approvingly. "At least you realize you've done something wrong, unlike a certain smirking individual." He turned to James, who had indeed been indulging in a smirk, and asked, "Tell me, Mr. Potter; why are you wearing a business suit?"

James had no idea what was wrong with it. "Because my father says it's what he wears when he has to look Muggle." He looked Moody in the eye, "May I ask what's wrong with it?"

Moody began to smile slightly. "You've got nerve; that's good in an Auror." The grin vanished. "It is not, however, good in a trainee. You _will_ call me 'Sir' from now on."

James nodded. "Yes, _Sir_."

"As for what's wrong with that suit: more than I care to tell you. Let it be sufficient to say that you are far too young to wear a suit, and leave it at that."

Moody stepped back, and swept his gaze over the recruits again. "There are only two of you who would pass for a Muggle and not raise suspicion. Ms. Evans and Mr. Snape, would you step forward?"

They did, and James, face still burning from being so casually humiliated, glowered. _Snape_ was better dressed than him? In _that_ get-up? It was palpably unjust. He looked over at Lily; she was wearing a skirt that showed far too much leg. He'd have to tell her not to wear it again; he didn't like the way Snivellus was looking at her. Moody coughed pointedly, and James returned his attention to him.

Moody waved his hand vaguely at the four on display. "These are _real _Muggle clothes. They are age-appropriate, they are weather-appropriate, and they are popular; they will not raise any eyebrows. Look at Ms. Evans." They did, and Snape wasn't the only one whose eyes were glazed with lust. "This is what a well-dressed young woman wears these days."

Alice Device raised her hand tentatively. "But isn't it terribly immodest?"

Moody gave her a brief smile. "A well-raised young witch might think so, but, actually, that is a surprisingly long skirt for a muggle. I'm afraid that you will have to learn to wear such things, or even trousers." Lily smiled nervously, tugging at the hem of her skirt, but Moody had moved on. "This, ladies and gentlemen, is an absolutely perfect Muggle outfit." He indicated Snape, who was grinning slightly. "Look at the leather trousers, look at the boots, and above all, look at the safety-pins." James looked, and grimaced slightly. Moody continued. "Mr. Snape, are you a Muggle-born?"

Snape stood up straighter. "No, sir. I'm a half-blood."

"He's a disgrace to Slytherin!"

Moody turned. "And why do you say that, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked quietly.

"Because he's a filthy mudblood! Scum like him shouldn't be allowed at Hogwarts," Malfoy declared, eyes shooting daggers at Snape.

"That will be enough, Mr. Malfoy. You are dismissed from service, and may leave. As I was about to say, Mr. Snape: congratulations. You could easily pass as part of the punk 'scene'."

Snape blushed slightly, and looked sheepish. "Actually sir, I _am_ part of it."

Lily turned and looked at him with far too admiring a look on her face for James' taste.

Moody, sighed. "Kids," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"_Slytherins_," James shrugged. He'd never understand them.


	10. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine.

A/N: Sorry about how long it took me to write this chapter. I'll try to do better, I promise. _La Journale d'Histoire Celtique_ is my own invention, but there might be something of that name out there. American Express and Discover card are not my invention. I'd like to thank my wonderful beta, **Dylan S. Thompson.

* * *

**

Lily was curled up on her sofa, a cheap paperback romance on her lap. She was ignoring it completely, instead staring out the window blindly, wondering where Severus was and what he was doing. After the initial shock of his declaration had worn off she'd realized that he hadn't simply been embarrassed, he'd been literally horrified by what he'd said, and that worried her. Lily liked to think that she knew Severus well, but she'd never seen him quite like that. She sighed; there was nothing she could do about it. She'd just have to talk to him tomorrow.

* * *

Severus sat in the far back corner of the Leaky Cauldron, staring down at his Fire Whiskey. How the hell was he going to get through tomorrow? He gave a despairing sigh. He must have the world's worst timing. First he realized he was in love the day, the same goddamn day, the girl he loved agreed to go out with someone he hated. Then he left the country the day before she broke up with him. Now, just before he would have to spend at least a week with her, he'd made an ass of himself and actually told her. He disgusted himself sometimes, he really did. He was sitting here, thinking about her, and he didn't even have the nerve to look up her number and call to apologize.

* * *

Sirius grinned, and lit a cigarette. It had been a long time since anyone had been this enthusiastic about his music, and it felt good. It had been even longer since teenage girls had cooed over him, since Hogwarts actually, but he wasn't terribly enthusiastic about it, which bothered him a bit. He'd always been... not promiscuous exactly…but more than willing to take what was offered. He'd built his image on it and written most of his songs about various girls, to tell the truth. He'd tried writing songs about other things, but they never seemed quite as heartfelt. He'd been singing some of his older songs, the ones he'd written before Nicola had waltzed into his life and taken over, and now he'd gotten all nostalgic. He leaned back in his chair, and felt a slight twinge of guilt. He probably shouldn't think about Nicola like that, but he did feel smothered once in a while, as loathe as he was to admit it. 

He flicked the ash off his cigarette, and gazed up at the ceiling. She'd been mentioning getting a 'proper job' more and more often, as though he hadn't already got one. All right, so he didn't wear a suit and have a regular salary, but so what? He could dip into the Black family money if he needed to; Reggie certainly wasn't using it. And then there was the issue of respectability. So he wore old jeans and the same jacket he had when he was twenty; it didn't mean anything. Nicola had known what she was getting when she moved in with him. It wasn't his fault he was being his normal, unmotivated self. He wasn't like Snape…or Lily.

Although Lily had somehow gotten mellow during the past ten years. By all accounts she was living in a studio apartment, working four days a week. Sirius smiled, remembering the driven, intellectual girl who was so determined to prove herself. She'd held up her college acceptance letter like a trophy, a mad grin on her face that had stayed there for a week. She'd sent him her first published column, and he'd kept it, never mind the fact that it was about a flower arranging competition. She'd been thrilled to hear he still had it, and overjoyed when Snape had asked to see it.

Snape. Now there was a problem. Everyone but Lily could tell he was hopelessly in love with her, and he and Remus were fairly certain that Lily felt something in return, even if they couldn't tell what. The way Severus and Lily felt about each other might cause problems, Sirius worried that if push came to shove, Snape just might choose Lily over his own team, and that Lily might do the same for Snape, and Sirius really didn't like the idea, being on Lily's team as he was. At least he wasn't in a high-risk position; none of them really were, except maybe Remus. Sitting and sketching might not be too obvious, but one slip and he could potentially alert whoever it was who was behind this.

He stubbed his cigarette out, and lit a new one. There was something that was bothering him about the whole idea of shades, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He knew it was an art so dark even his parents had been leery of it, and that not even Voldemort had dared contemplate it. But there was something else, some family with a reputation for trying to... What was it? Raise shades? Create shades? Something like that. He wished he had a few of the more esoteric books from the Black library with him, they'd certainly help. Maybe he should donate them to the Aurors or something; they weren't doing any good moldering at Grimmauld Place.

* * *

Remus smiled vaguely and stroked the spine of the book he was shelving. He'd needed to come in and luxuriate in the peace of his library one more time; it wouldn't have felt right to abandon his little domain without even saying a goodbye. He knew he was being sentimental, and possibly superstitious, but there were times when he thought the books were almost sentient. He knew that some of the books at Hogwarts had had some kind of consciousness, so why not his Muggle books? 

He felt a sharp twinge at the thought of Hogwarts. The great library had been divided when the school was closed, its contents scattered among the dozen new government run schools of magic. It was, Remus thought, one of the greatest tragedies of the last decade. There was no romance, no anticipation. You got your letter in the Muggle post and you portkeyed to school every morning and home every night. The names of Gryffindor and Slytherin were no more than relics of a bygone era, and of a system condemned by the Ministry as divisive. Remus snorted. They may have been divisive, but they'd helped cultivate traits that had saved his life too many times to count. His mind danced over a few of the occasions, and he winced, shoving that train of thought into the far corners of his mind. Best just to concentrate on the books, really.

The shelving was done too soon, and Remus' mind began to wander towards unpleasant subjects again. James appeared in his mind's eye, scowling and aiming his wand at an unsuspecting Severus. Remus winced; it was far too close to what had happened for to be comfortable. If he hadn't acted quickly, James might have done something Unforgivable. Remus slumped. What the hell had happened to James, to make him this…this unstable? It had been ten years, and he was still fixated on Lily. Obsessed, more like. Had James always been this way? Remus certainly couldn't remember a time when he hadn't chased Lily. He shied away from the niggling thought that he should have seen this coming, and began dusting the shelves. It was a completely pointless activity, but at least it was distracting.

* * *

The next day, suitcase and sketch pad in hand, Remus went to his final briefing before departure. As soon as he walked through the door, it was obvious something had happened. Severus held a procedures manual three inches from his nose and glared at it furiously, studiously ignoring the way Lily kept glancing at him, radiating concern and hurt. It took nearly all of Remus' self-control not to thump the two until they admitted that they loved each other. It was none of his business, he told himself, no matter how much it annoyed him to see those two act like idiots. Lily finally noticed his presence, and gave him a wide smile that didn't reach her eyes. 

"Remus! You got here fast." Lily exclaimed. Severus nodded curtly from behind his book, and Lily's smile faltered slightly.

He gave them a smile, pretending he didn't see anything wrong. "I thought I'd better get an early start."

Lily fumbled with the paperwork on the table before her, and withdrew a small notebook. "Here's your report book. I've charmed it to transmit sketches as well as reinforcing the usual notice-me-not and Muggle-repellent charms." He took it, and Lily dug through the paperwork yet again. "Here are your ID papers. You are Remy DuBois, an illustrator for _La Journale d'Histoire Celtique_, based in Saint-Brieuc, Brittany. Passport, driver's license, press card, credit cards and a watch with your name engraved on it." As she handed him each item, his grip became more and more tenuous, until she set the watch on top of the pile, and everything fell.

"Shit!" Remus knelt, and began frantically snatching up the papers. Once he had them all, he set them on the table. "Sorry, Lily." He gave her a sheepish smile. "Out of sheer curiosity, do these credit cards really work, or are they just for show?"

Lily checked a piece of paper. "The American Express draws on your expense account, and the Discover card comes from your next paycheck. They both have a thousand pound and/or 200 galleon limit. That should be more than enough."

Remus nodded. "Anything I spend on lodging and food will be repaid, right?"

Lily shook her head. "No. Instead, a two thousand pound bonus has been added to your next paycheck. It's nominally for returning to service after so long, but the operation is what it's really meant for."

"I suppose that's all?"

Lily nodded and smiled at him, a real smile this time. He turned to go. "Hold on a moment Remus," Lily called.

He turned back. "What?"

"Good luck." Lily grinned at him, and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Now go out there and do your duty."

Remus stood to attention and gave Lily an only half-mocking salute. "Yes, Ma'am!" Then he spun on his heel and left, a smile fighting its way onto his face. Just like old times, he thought, and wondered at the thrill that went through him.

* * *

Severus glared at the manual in front of so hard it was surprising it didn't catch fire. The manual, an inoffensive tome on the proper procedures for an armed raid, had done nothing to harm Severus, he merely found it a convenient thing to hide behind. He had no intention of letting the true cause of his distress, one Lily Evans, see just how badly he was affected, not after the way she'd kissed the werewolf. Ex-werewolf, really, but Severus was past caring about the niceties. He was sleep deprived, hung over, and sick with envy; he couldn't be bothered to think clearly. He knew, in the back of his mind, that he'd been insufferably rude to Remus, and he knew he'd be guilty about it later, but now he just hurt too damn much to worry about it.

* * *

Lily slumped into a chair. She was relieved by Remus' departure; putting on a brave face like that took a great deal out of her. She'd never been able to lie worth a damn, and her instructors at the Academy had almost despaired of ever teaching her to be able to it adequately. She'd learned, but it had taken far longer than expected. Severus, on the other hand, had already been so adept when they started that he had completed that training unit in a third of the time it normally took. That was part of her current problem, actually. She didn't know if last night's confession was merely a rather mean-spirited joke, an honest if inadvertent admission, or what. She was leaning towards honest admission, but doubt nagged at her. Surely Severus wasn't cruel enough to mock her? She sighed and dropped her head into her hands, completely missing the look of concern and guilt that it engendered in Severus.

* * *

I am instituting a new policy of not updating until I have at least one review per chapter. This is not in the least excessive; rather, it is a means of guaranteeing that at least one person has read the chapter the whole way through. For me, at least, there is no point in writing unless someone is reading, thus the new policy. 


	11. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: I love deadlines; I love the sound they make as they go whooshing by. I also love Douglas Adams, but the mere fact that I'm quoting him should clue you into that. What I do not love is the fact that I forgot to do any research on the fortress at Dinas Emrys before writing this chapter. Apparently, it's currently a hole in the ground surrounded by a few stones where the walls used to be. For the purposes of this story, please envision Dinas Emrys as something along the lines of this castle: www . castlewales . com / dolw . html, except slightly more decrepit. Also, I'm uploading this from a Mac, and cannot put in the section dividers. I'll insert them as soon as my usual computer is fixed.

Sirius sat at the bar, turning his lighter over and over in his hands. Despite the evening hour, the bar was nearly empty. Most of the village was gathered in front of the church, listening to the mother of one of the abductees rant about the perfidy of wizards, and how they should all be burned at the stake for sacrificing her son to some false god. He'd gone, and listened to the first five minutes. He ought to have stayed, so that he could include it in his report, but he'd afraid that he was going to lose his temper, and say something that would blow his cover. He'd gone back to the pub instead, to have a few drinks and mull over what he'd seen.

Sirius was disgusted with himself, but he had to concede that the mob had made him intensely nervous. It had been composed primarily of older people, who had lived most of their adult lives before magic, and were still leery of it. That distrust had been compounded by the discovery of the mutilated body of one of the missing boys, who had suffered the threefold death. This, in and of itself, might have been put down to the work of a madman, if not for a bespectacled young man who was taking a correspondence course in Magical Studies, a field that Sirius had never previously heard of. The man could not resist the urge to display his newly acquired expertise, and the phrase 'threefold death' was soon on the lips of the local gossips, and from there to everywhere. It was, in short, a complete public relations disaster.

He stared into the depths of his glass, hoping against hope that he would find inspiration on how to handle the situation in his beer. He failed to find any signs or portents there, not that he had really expected any, except for perhaps a sign as to whether he should have another drink, but advice even as to that was absent. He decided, after a moment's thought, that having another would almost certainly result in a maudlin phone call to Nicola, begging her forgiveness and making a complete prat of himself. He sighed slightly, and stubbed out his cigarette. He had to go write his report; there was no point in delaying.

Remus set up his easel about a hundred yards from the ruins of the fortress, eyeing it speculatively, already feeling himself submerging into his false identity. He took a hard pencil, and with a few quick lines, laid the basic shape out on his paper. The setting sun was behind the fort, and he could see every jagged edge where the walls had crumbled, and every arrow slit. They were carefully drawn in, remaining as true to life as Remus was capable of. Then he began the painstaking work of outlining the individual stones, hampered by the speed at which the darkness was drawing in.

Twenty minutes later, it was too dark to work at all, even with the augmented vision of an ex-werewolf. Remus reluctantly flipped his sketchbook closed, and with a few muffled curses, refolded his recalcitrant easel. As he attempted to force its rusted joints to fold, he completely missed the black-clad figure emerging from the fortress, and slowly making its way down the side of the hill. Remus kicked a few pebbles into a small cairn to mark where he'd been working, making sure that he'd have the same angle of view the next day, then hefted his satchel over his shoulder.

As he walked down the path, he was already planning the rendezvous he was meant to have with Sirius. Lily's instructions, once he'd managed to decipher her handwriting, had been very specific. He was to go to the pub and sit at the bar halfway through Sirius' performance, then strike up a conversation once Sirius was done. His observations of the for tress were to be written in invisible ink on the back of the business card he was going to hand Sirius at the end of the conversation, and Sirius would give him a cigarette with a message hidden in the filter. He wasn't exactly sure how useful the message was going to be, given Sirius' inability to understand Welsh, but it didn't matter; procedure had to be followed.

Sirius was halfway through 'A Whiter Shade of Pale' when a familiar figure entered the bar. He could barely suppress a smirk at the sight of Remus in tweed; it looked absolutely ridiculous on him. In fact, thought Sirius, even as he kept singing, it was absolutely pathetic that a man just past his thirtieth birthday should wear anything of the kind. No, he decided, the minimum age for tweed should be at least fifty, if not older. As the song came to an end, he decided to tease his friend a bit. As he began to play 'Werewolves of London', Remus barely stopped himself wincing; it was only seven years spent in close quarters with him that allowed Sirius to detect it.

Fifteen minutes later, he slumped into the barstool next to Remus and lit a cigarette. Taking a long drag, he looked at the man next to him. "Hey, I'm Stephen Brown. I noticed you watching my performance. So, what'd you think?"

Remus gave him a weak grin. "Very... interesting. I am Remy duBois, by the way."

Sirius shrugged. "I was kinda worried; most of those songs aren't meant for acoustic, y'know? My amp got wrecked when some lunkhead spilled a pint on it, and the stuff they've got for sale here is awful."

Remus nodded, a look of vague confusion on his face. "I imagine that there is very little market for such things in such a place as this. I am truly surprised that there is anything at all."

Sirius took another drag on his cigarette. "Yeah, so was I, actually. I thought I was completely screwed, then I realized I hadn't even brought the electric guitar at all. A stupid thing to forget, isn't it? I can't stand acoustic, especially on someone else's guitar. Hey, d'you want a cigarette?" he offered suddenly, having remembered the purpose of their meeting.

Remus nodded, and he fished in the box, finding the one that was still slightly deformed from his efforts to insert the parchment. Remus glanced at it dubiously, then lit up, trying not to inhale. "Thank you. I wish to know, do you hire out for private functions? My sister in London is getting married, and she wishes to have live entertainment."

Sirius shrugged. "It depends on my schedule; give me your card and I'll call you, all right?"

Remus smiled. "Yes, that would be adequate." He withdrew the doctored card from his pocket, and handed it to Sirius. "I fear I must depart. The hour has grown late." Remus nodded to Sirius politely, placed some money on the bar and strolled out, still trying not to breathe in any of the smoke from the cigarette still clamped firmly between his lips.

Sirius waved at him idly, and tucked the business card into the pocket of his jeans for later perusal. Then he stubbed out his cigarette, lit another, and began to seriously drink.

When Sirius woke, it was to early morning sunlight creeping through the venetian blinds and viciously assaulting him. At least, that was what it felt like; it also felt, or more accurately tasted, like he had tried to eat a pair of dirty sweat socks at some point during the previous evening. He tried to look at the clock without moving, but the angle was simply impossible. With a heartfelt groan, he pushed himself upright, and looked blearily at the clock. Half past six. Shit. Far too early to get breakfast, or even a hangover cure; the kitchen wouldn't be unlocked until ten. Oh god. He dropped his head into his hands despairingly. He was going to die.

Three hours later, his take on the world, while not any more optimistic, was considerably more pain-free. His headache had receded, and copious quantities of mouthwash had removed the impression of sweat socks. He was not exactly alert, but he was functional, and that had to count for something, didn't it? And wasn't there something he was meant to be doing? Sirius wracked his mind, and eventually came up with something about a business card. Invisible ink, that was it. Now, where had gone? He found it at last in the pocket of the jeans he'd been wearing the previous night, underneath his lighter and an inexplicable packet of peanuts.

Carefully holding the card, he lit his lighter, and carefully brought the flame near where the writing presumably was. Remus' neat handwriting slowly appeared, pale tan letters against a cream background. He squinted, and then flicked off the lighter after it became apparent that the letters weren't going to get any darker. Taking it over to the window, he scrutinized it. The message seemed to be, in its entirety, '_Upper floors gone. Will relay sketch of lower level tomorrow._' Sirius shrugged, and went to check in his report book if Lily had sent him Remus' sketch yet. She had not, so he slumped on the bed, and began to think about what songs he was going to play that night.

A/N Redux: This hasn't been beta'd; I'll repost it when it has.


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